


Frosted Shadows

by Jackson_Overland_Frost



Series: The ColdHands Project [1]
Category: Danny Phantom, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Clockwork’s Apprentice!Danny, Coldhands - Freeform, Comedy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hourglass!Danny, M/M, Rating May Change, Shadowmen, So yeah, Wizard!Jamie, You’ll see, and by that I mean Will Change, but well, by the way, cause there ain’t enough of that, haha coming, i ship ‘em cause they’re both dead, is it though?, more like strangers to friends to lovers really, or at least I /try/, slowburn, space, there is eventually cake, there’s sex too but I’ll tell you when that’s coming up, they’re here for your depression, this takes place in 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackson_Overland_Frost/pseuds/Jackson_Overland_Frost
Summary: Hundred of light years away from the temple, a dark presence opened it’s metaphorical eyes and smiled the same sharp smile. Thousands of shadows began moving, swirling and swimming through the void of space, gathering around the presence.Frosted Shadows- Coming April 2020 to an AO3 near you (I hope)!





	Frosted Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [In_The_Ghost_Mode](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_The_Ghost_Mode/gifts).



The temple was elegantly carved from dark gray stone, the swirling designs on the walls once shimmering with silver, but now tarnished with only a glimpse of its former beauty. Mosaics of shadows and faded figures lined the walls where the carvings stopped, and a pale gray hand traced the faded colors. The alter in the middle of the temple was much the same, though it was carved into black marble instead. Upon the altar, set on two Y shaped branches, was a straight obsidian ebony staff set on either end with silver. 

Faded letters on the wall spoke the almost forgotten legend of an ancient evil. Time, stars, life and death themselves had put it to sleep long ago, and had placed his staff here. The hand did not pause to read this story, but forged on, past the now illegible runes. 

The long fingered hand reached out to the staff, and silver eyes blinked in the darkness. A shadowed robe flowed over the smooth stone floor. Pitch Black took the staff from its place, and as he lifted it, black sand swirled around it, forming it into the shape of a scythe before the whole thing disappeared into shadow. His silver eyes flashed gold, and Pitch smiled into the nothingness. 

Hundreds of light years away, the ancient evil opened it’s metaphorical eyes and smiled the same sharp smile. Thousands of shadows began moving, swirling and swimming through the void of space, gathered around the presence.


End file.
